After Bad Nightmares
by Angel0665
Summary: Sam has an awful nightmare. Gladly Dean is there, like always.


_Author's NOTE: hey guys! i don't know if anyone will read this, but if you do, it takes place in season 1, for me Sam is 21, and Dean is now 27. Okay? i know its strange, but i like it that way better. not a big deal. and also if you do read this, please be on the nice side of the comments...  
ex: "nice job, but you have a lot of mistakes..."  
not this ex: "You are the worst writer ever, stop wasting your life by doing this, cause its all crap!"  
Thank you! hehe_

_Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural, not even close to it. And i don't want to get in trouble or anything!_

"Dean! No, please! DEEAANN!"

Dean awoke with a start. He was having a very nice dream that involved Angelina Jolie and whipped cream. It was just starting to get good when he heard a dreadful cry.

"NO! Please don't! Please, I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Dean! HELP ME!"

He instinctively threw off the covers, switching into "big brother mode" as Sam called it, and took the two steps to Sam's bedside.

"AHHHH! Please stop, please stop, I don't want it anymore. DEAN! Help me! Plleeaase…" Sam was begging, pleading with an unknown source from his mind. He was curled of on his side facing Dean, hands over his head. His body spasmed with every shout. Dean _hated_ it, he hated seeing his baby brother in pain, hated hearing the strangled cry almost every night. The screams of hurt never got old, and never would.

"Sammy," Dean said softly, putting a hand on Sam's back, rubbing it in circles, his shirt was drenched in sweat. "Come on Sam, wake up kiddo," he nudged Sam's shoulder, feeling it shaking under his palm.

Sam's whole body jumped, he sat up with a strangled gasped, eyes flying open. He looked wildly around the room, and then turned to Dean, noticing that his hand was on his back.

"Shhhh, Sammy its okay, its okay no one's gonna hurt you, your safe now, Little Brother," Dean spoke in that soft, gentle voice he reserved only for Sam, and only when Sam was in considerable distress, like now.

Sam took a deep breath, visibly trying to calm down, but it wasn't working, his breaths were coming shorter and faster, face paling. He was having a panic attack, and Dean knew what to do.

"Shhhh, Sammy, shhhhh. Come on now, calm down, just breathe," Dean soothed, putting their foreheads together and pulling Sam's hand into his chest. "Breathe with me Sam, in and out. Nice and deep." It was working, Sam's breathing was slowing down. His breath hot on Dean's face, his tears burning Dean's skin.

"That's it Sam, just like that. Good boy," Dean was saying calming nothingness he would never say in the light of day. But nighttime was different; Sam has had particularly bad nightmares recently, ever since the Benders fiasco. Almost every night, Dean would awake to Sam's terror filled screams, and they would have chick-flick moments, and heart-felt conversations, and during the bad ones Dean might even end up finishing out the night in Sam's bed. Really, Dean didn't mind; he just acted like it was annoying so as not to ruin his façade. They never speak about what occurs, the crying and the comfort. Sometimes its even _Dean_ waking up sweating and needing Sam's reassurances.

Sam was still spilling tears, more slowly now, mostly from exhaustion then the night terror.

"It was a bad one huh?" Dean asked conversationally. Still pressing his forehead to Sam's, his left hand coming around to hold the back of Sam's neck.

"Yeah," Sam spoke quietly, the hand that wasn't pressed against Dean's chest, gripping the arm that was at his back. He was hiccupping softly, closing his eyes and starting to drift back already.

"Want me to stay here?" Dean questioned, knowing the answer would be yes, it usually was. He was sort of hoping it would be, although he would never admit it as long as he lived. They were both grown men, who didn't cuddle, except in the dark secrets of night.

"Yeah," Sam nodded. "Do you mind?" He pulled his head back, his swollen, red, puppy eyes looking into Dean's. Even if Dean didn't want to, he could never say no to those eyes. They were his biggest weakness.

"'Course not," he said quietly, nudging Sam over and pulling back the covers.

Dean lay down on his back, and Sam scooted over, resting his head on Dean's shoulder. Deeply breathing in the scent of Dean, the smell of security and protection to Sam.

Dean closed his eyes, softly whispering, "Sleep tight, Little Brother." Before drifting off into a dreamless sleep.

Sam took another deep breath, and followed his big brother into slumber.


End file.
